Treat Me Right
by Bluenose
Summary: Dean realises that not all dreams are nightmares. Title from a song by Grace Potter and the Nocturnals.


**Treat Me Right**

He stretched, the cool night air brushing, rushing across him, easing the kinks and cramps in his muscles, brought on by long hours of driving. Brought on by long hours of driving and by the claws of a...

It had been a difficult, bloody hunt.

Still he was alive. Him and his brother.

"What a beautiful night."

He flushed, looking around hastily to see if Sam was behind him, if he'd heard him say that. Dean Winchester just didn't say shit like that. Sam'd never let him live it down....

Still, it was a beautiful night, the sky as dark as velvet, the moon and stars glistening, gleaming like jewels against the fabric of the sky, the faint trail of a comet streaking across...

The scent of her perfume, as clear and sharp, clean as the fragrance that haunted his...

"I'm dreaming, aren't I?"

"Yeah, Dean, you are."

xxxXXXxxx

She stepped towards him, out of the shadows, her slender form kissed by the soft gleam of the moonlight. "Hey."

"Hey" He shuffled, awkward, nervous, his hands seeking refuge in the pockets of his jacket, his gaze slipping onto her, drinking her in like a prayer, like salvation. "How've you been, Anna?"

"Busy. You."

"Busy, busy." He forced a smile. "Still chasing down all of Lilith's little buddies, stop her breaking any more of these seals, releasing Lucifer. You know, busy."

"Too busy to call?"

"Well you didn't exactly leave me a phone number."

She laughed, the sound echoing, chiming like a silver bell, pure and clear, clean.

"How are things?" He gestured, pointing up at the night sky. "Up there."

"Well they didn't exactly welcome me back with open arms." She smiled, her hair falling across her face. "It may be sometime before Uriel forgives me."

"It might be sometime before I forgive him either." He stepped closer to her, almost reaching for her, always just out of his reach.

"He's just following orders."

"That's what they all say."

"He's just as frightened as you are..."

He laughed, bitterly, the sound harsh, dull, clanging like shattered glass. "I seriously fucking doubt that, Anna." He stopped, hesitating, thinking. "Thank God this is a dream and Sam didn't hear me say that."

"I didn't come here to argue about Uriel." She stepped closer to him, closer, closer, the scent of her hair, her perfume, rising around him like a murmur of a prayer.

"Oh yeah?" Another step, his eyes fixed on her, his mouth settling in that familiar, patented Dean Winchester smirk. "So why did you come?"

"You know why."

Another step.

"Why?"

Another step.

"To see you."

And then she was in his arms.

xxxXXXxxx

"We're running in circles up there. We just don't know where she's going to strike next."

"There's still hope, though, right?"

"There's always hope, Dean." She sighed, sitting up in his arms, her red hair falling across her bare shoulders. "Sometimes I think it's all we have."

He ran his hand across her back, luxuriating in its softness beneath his fingers. He knew it was a dream, knew that she was a dream, praying that he would remember the way her skin felt. "Not all we have."

She looked back at him over her shoulder, her smile dancing in her eyes. "You're slipping, Dean."

"Don't tell Sammy."

Her smile faded, died away like a fading star. "I have to go."

"Don't..."

"I have to." She sighed again, standing, stretching out her hand, his fingers flowing through hers. "I have to..."

"_DEAN!"_

"Dammit..." He reached for his shirt, slipping it on, his fingers shaking as he worked at the buttons. The world felt cold, empty away from her. "Will I...."

"Sure. I'll call you in the morning."

"You keep stealing my lines."

"_DEAN!"_

"See ya..."

"Yeah."

She, the world, starting to fade, Sam's voice inching its way into his head.

"Anna!"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful."

"Yeah. You too."

"_DE..."_

xxxXXXxxx

"....AN!"

He came awake suddenly, sharply, conscious of his brother's hand on his shoulder, shaking him roughly.

"What?"

"Nothin'." Sam glanced at him quickly, and then kept his eyes on the road, the narrow beams of the Impala piercing the dark night like spears. "Just you were dreamin' or something. Talkin' in your sleep."

"Talkin' in my sleep?"

"Yeah."

Dean wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "What'd I say?"

"Nothin' I could make out."

"Good." Dean settled himself down in the passenger seat, making himself as comfortable as he could. "Wake me when we get to Bob..."

He wondered if she would still be there in his dreams.

**End of Treat Me Right.**


End file.
